Understandings
by Victoria May
Summary: Blair's past revisits him; Friends offer Blair a new place to live


1982  
  
' . . . has residency been established?'  
  
'No Your Honor. The defendant has resided at four separate addresses since the last hearing. The current address being that of 'a friend' of the defendant's and lasting not quite a week.'  
  
'Employment?'  
  
'The defendant was employed at Walgreeens Drug Store during the period of her court ordered drug treatment program. However, when the program ended, the defendant quit that job and has since worked for a temp agency. Not what I would call 'steady employment' Your Honor.'  
  
'I see.' Raising one hand to his forehead, the judge rubbed at the tension building there. Sighing quietly, he slid his hand through white, thinning hair and glanced at the defendant. Not his average dead beat parent, but not the most impressive either. A carry over from the sixties, the petite red head sat with her head held high and her back straight. Large hoop earrings adorned her ears, drawing attention to her large, doe eyes and winsome smile. A real beauty.   
  
Drawing his gaze from the defendant, he let it settle on the teen ensconced between two of the best foster parents the county had to offer. Smart, stable, pillars of the community. They'd taken in over fifty children since they opened their home ten years ago.   
  
The teen fidgeted under the judge's gaze and a hand crept up to rest on his arm. The small body stilled, as the boy looked away from the intense scrutiny of the law and into the eyes of his surrogate parent. It was hard to believe that this was the same boy who was in his courtroom eight months ago. Long healed were the colorful bruises splayed across the elfin face; his arm free of the cumbersome plaster cast. Now, bright, blue eyes returned to pierce his own, pleading with him as only a child can. Yet, as the boy's eyes begged him to let him go, let his mother reclaim him, the small body pressed against that of the older man next to him spoke of something else. Safety, stability, and the freedom to be a child could be wondrous things. Especially when given to someone whose life consisted of the exact opposite. While his eyes shown with intelligence and maturity beyond his thirteen years, the boy's body radiated with a joy known only to children.   
  
The judge cleared his throat and began to speak. 'I understand that everyone has waited a long time for this hearing, and that extenuating circumstances precipitated the postponement of this hearing, originally on the docket two months ago. I was hoping for a quick wrap up and I know you all were as well. However, I find myself in an awkward place. On one hand, the defendant has completed the AODA rehabilitation program as previously ordered and has remained here in the county as requested. Quite a feat I understand, for someone as well traveled as the defendant. I would like to reward that determination.'   
  
Bright eyes flashed in accompaniment to an even brighter smile as the defendant turned to her attorney.  
  
'However, I also see before me a child who appears happy, healthy and thriving. Not the child who once appeared in this courtroom angry, brittle and afraid. I don't want to see that child again. And I fear that if I return him to his mother at this juncture, all the progress I see here will be lost. So I order an extension of court supervision for six months, during which time the child will remain in the Bradshaw foster home. Ms. Sandburg, I also order that you report to this court in six months time with proof of stable employment and a permanent address. Dismissed.' The resounding thump of the gavel punctuated the ruling as the judge stood, looked down at the confused teen and smiled a comforting smile as only a father knows how. Then, grabbing his case files from before him, he turned and disappeared through the large oak door behind the bench.   
  
PRESENT DAY  
  
"Hey Blair, hurry up! 'Kids in the Hall' is starting!"  
  
A door hidden in the dark hallway swung open as a voice rang out over the sound of running water, "What happened to 'Absolutely Fabulous?'"   
  
"You were in the bathroom how long and you have to ask that?" a tall, pale skinned man dressed in grungy, torn blue jeans and a KISS tee shirt teased as Blair drifted out of the bathroom. "What did you eat anyway?"  
  
"Hey, I have a nervous stomach, okay? Besides, weren't you the one yelling for the plunger?" Blair shot back.  
  
"I resemble that remark, that you very much," came the chuckled reply.  
  
"Shut up guys, I can't hear the TV," a short, yet curvy in all the right places, woman called out from the couch.   
  
When Blair looked sufficiently chastised, with his finger held to his lips as he tiptoed to the couch, she asked, "Do you have any more chips?"   
  
Flopping down beside her, Blair shoved his feet under her legs and pushed. "Yeah, and bring me some more rice cakes too while you're over there." Ducking the hand he knew was aimed for his head, Blair grinned up at the archeology TA. "Please?" he added as she passed by.  
  
"You know Blair, you really need to treat your friends better. I mean, who's gonna want to sit and lecture to all those jocks when you're out gallivanting around and we don't answer our phones?" The large, blond woman folded at the end of the loveseat quirked her eyebrow at him. "I mean, that is why we have answering machines. In case we're 'not home' if you get my drift."   
  
"Yeah Sandburg, get up and get your own rice cakes. In my country, we treat our guests better than this," the Japanese math student harrumphed.   
  
Blair pushed off the couch with his hands held high. "Hey now, what is this, pick on Sandburg day?"  
  
"You got it," a low voice purred in his ear as a bag of apple rice cakes slid down his shoulder.  
  
"Okay, okay. From now on, your wish is my command," Blair joked.   
  
"Does that include me?" came a gruff voice near the door. "Cuz if it does, than you can start by cleaning up some of this mess."  
  
Blair twirled around. "Jim! I didn't hear you come in man. Don't worry about the mess, you know I'll clean it up."  
  
Jim shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. Making a disgusted face, he choked out "Geez Sandburg, did you use the spray?"  
  
Blair scrunched his face up as he retorted, mimicking Jim, "Yes, I used the spray" and turned away. He flopped back on the couch and drew his feet up to sit cross-legged. Ignoring his grumpy partner, he ripped open the rice cakes and turned back to the TV and his guests.   
  
Seconds later he rolled his eyes as a voice called out from the kitchen, "Uh, Chief, where's dinner?"  
  
"It's your turn to cook Jim. We traded, remember? I cooked last night, now it's your turn?"  
  
"No chief. 'We' never traded. 'You' offered to cook last night," Jim clarified as he stepped closer to the couches.  
  
"Yeah Jim. Because you had a headache."  
  
"Blair, you knew I had to work late tonight. I never said I would cook. I mean, don't you ever just do something because it's the right thing to do? Does there always have to be a catch?"  
  
A throat cleared, breaking through the tension. "Hey Blair, it's been fun. But I think we're gonna head out," the Asian student said as he pulled on his shoes.   
  
"We'll do it at the house next time, okay everyone? My place, next week?" the KISS guy said as he threw sympathetic looks Blair's way.  
  
One by one, the four friends said their goodbyes and quietly escaped from the loft.  
  
Blair sat quietly for a second before jumping to his feet. "Geez Jim! That was embarrassing man! Did you have to act all alpha male in front of my friends? Why don't you just stick a sign to my head that says 'Jim Ellison's doormat'!"  
  
"Don't start Chief, okay? I have a headache and the last thing I wanted was to come home to a trashed loft and crap on TV."  
  
"Fine, whatever Jim. You know, this is my home too. Do I have to clear it with you before I have friends over?" Blair asked sarcastically.  
  
"That would be great Sandburg, would you?" Jim asked as he grabbed the garbage can and began to scoop up the empty beer bottles, soda cans, and chip bags.   
  
Blair glared at the older man before stomping over to the phone and dialing. "What kind of pizza do you want Jim?"  
  
"Pizza? You know a home cooked meal would be nice after the day I've had. But if you want pizza Chief . . . " his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the murderous glint in Blair's eye.  
  
"Sure Jim, it's eight o'clock at night, but what would you like? Lasagna? Steak? Stir fry?" Blair's voice cracked with barely suppressed anger.  
  
"Get your pizza Chief, I'm not hungry anyway. I'm just going to shower and hit the sack," Jim's voice floated through the closing bathroom door.   
  
Blair glared at the spot where his partner had been standing, before slamming the receiver down hard. "Asshole," he grumbled as he stomped into his bedroom, kicking the glass doors closed behind him.   
  
*****  
  
The late morning sun shined brightly through the small windows of the basement office, glittering on the swirling clouds of dust dancing in the air.  
  
"Mmn, Blair," a soft voice moaned sensually.  
  
"Candy," Blair breathed before his mouth was once again covered by velvety lips and attacked with a roving tongue.   
  
Fabric rustled as a zipper slowly inched open, exposing satiny, warm skin. Then a pause, and slight tug at the small track.  
  
"Don't stop," a cool hand reached back and tugged at the larger hand.  
  
"Shit" a hushed voice hissed.  
  
"What is it? Don't tell me it's stuck-I just bought this dress!" a slim, tall blond pulled out of Blair's arms and cranked her neck around to see behind her. "It is stuck! I can't believe it. Do you know how much this dress cost?"  
  
Blair slumped back against the wall. "No," he moaned, breathing heavily.  
  
"Seventy five dollars! And I've only worn it once." The tall bosomy woman turned her back to Blair. "Well, see if you can get it zipped. I'll wear it back to the store and demand an exchange. They owe me that much."  
  
Blair slowly tugged the zipper back up its track and remorsefully ran his hands down the soft back and hips. Pulling the warm body closer, he nuzzled her neck. "Stupid zipper," he muttered.  
  
"Blair," her voice was breathy. "I have to go now . . . oh, that feels so good . . . if I want to return this dress today. They might not have anymore . . .," she trailed off as she twisted in Blair's arms and met his lips once again.   
  
A sudden rapping on the door startled them both and they began to laugh.   
  
"I guess you'd better go," Blair said apologetically as he unlocked the door.  
  
"I guess I'd better." Large brown eyes absorbed Blair's every feature before focusing on his eyes. "Call me-soon," she added as she slipped past the tall, thin man standing in the doorway.  
  
"Candice, looking good!" the man called after her, shrugging as she turned on her heel and walked away, pointedly ignoring him.   
  
"She wants me," he grinned as Blair ushered him in and shut the door.   
  
Waving his hand and looking at the sea of books and papers, Blair said, "Have a seat-wherever."  
  
Glenn, apparently an avid KISS fan, was wearing another concert tee shirt as he had the night before. Blair looked at him and raised his eyebrows as Glenn moved the pile of books from the room's only other chair and sank into it.   
  
"What?" he looked down. "Oh-I'll put a sweater over it before class. I know how Hotchkins is about his TAs wearing grunge to class."  
  
Blair shrugged and asked, "So, what's up?"  
  
"We have got to talk my friend. There is some seriously bad karma going on here," Glenn warned.  
  
"Glenn, I've got a lot to do and not enough time to do it in. So cut to the chase."  
  
Glenn leaned back in his chair and eyed Blair meaningfully.  
  
"What?" Blair asked, exasperated.  
  
"Koji's moving out."  
  
Blair shook his head. "So?"  
  
"So? His room is available. And you, my friend, are moving in" Glenn gloated.  
  
"And how did you reach this magnificent conclusion when I've already got a place to live?" Blair asked, confused.  
  
"You call that living? That's worse than the dormitories. At least there you can flush after ten."  
  
"What are you talking about," Blair sighed, feeling a headache coming on.   
  
"You, living with that Neanderthal. What were you thinking?"  
  
"Maybe, I was thinking, 'Hmm, my place just blew up, Jim's offering me a place to live. I need a place to live. Bingo! I'll live with Jim!'" Blair settled back in his chair and glared at his friend.   
  
"That's all fine and dandy, but you don't have to live there anymore. You can't be happy there. The great Blair Sandburg, living with 'the man'."  
  
"Glenn, give it a rest. Jim's a good guy. He's just a little intense sometimes. He's not usually as grumpy as he was last night."  
  
Glenn cocked an eyebrow and Blair threw up his hands.  
  
"Okay, okay. So he is usually that grumpy. But it's not usually a big deal."  
  
"And why is that Blair-could it be because you don't usually invite your friends over to invade his precious territory? Think about that for awhile, then tell me it's not a big deal."   
  
The shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted Blair before he could reply.  
  
"Blair Sandburg."  
  
As the caller identified himself, Blair sat up and leaned forward.  
  
"What's up man?"  
  
Glenn rolled his eyes, at the over eager expression on Blair's face. Blair raised his arm and glanced at his watch.  
  
"Now? No problem, I'll meet you there."  
  
Blair balanced the receiver on his shoulder, pressing his face against it to hold it in place, as he leaned down and began shoving papers into his backpack.   
  
"Late? No, that's fine."  
  
Glenn narrowed his eyes and pointed at himself, and glared when Blair waved him off.  
  
"Don't worry about it. It's not a problem."  
  
Glenn's jaw dropped open.  
  
"Okay, see you in a few then. Bye."  
  
Blair dropped the receiver down and zipped up his pack. As he stood he caught Glenn's shocked expression.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry man. I know we made plans for tonight, but Jim just landed a major case and he really needs me on this one."  
  
As Blair passed, Glenn grabbed his arm. "Blair, listen to me. You have a serious problem. You need to run, not walk, to the nearest Ellison Anonymous. This is bad man, really bad. You've got me really freaked out about this."  
  
Blair shrugged out of Glenn's grasp. "Glenn! Chill! It's okay, really. This is my dissertation we're talking about here. This is the crunch time. I have to make certain sacrifices right now."  
  
"Like your friends? Blair, this isn't healthy. It's like-like you're in an abusive relationship or something." At Blair's incredulous look, he rushed on. "I mean, you don't see your friends anymore, you hardly go out, unless it's with the cop-or some babe, at least you haven't lost your whole personality-you're living this guy's life! You moved into his place, you live by his rules, and you jump when he says jump."  
  
"Glenn . . .."  
  
Glenn held up his hand. "Blair, face it. You're a Stepford wife now."  
  
Blair rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Okay, I see your point. I'll think about it, okay?"  
  
As he followed Blair out the door, Glenn sighed, "It's a start."  
  
*****  
  
Blair shuffled along behind Jim, pausing when Jim paused, shuffling again when Jim moved forward. Over a threshold, and through. Blair sighed deeply, and dropped his pack to the side, tugging at his jacket that had somehow grabbed hold of the small man and refused to let go. Suddenly free of the monstrosity as capable hands stripped it from his body, Blair stumbled towards the couch and collapsed, boneless.   
  
He didn't look up at the sound of the door closing or the locks turning, only twitching when a cold drop of water fell onto his closed eyelid. Reaching up, his hand groped about, searching for the source of the steady trickle now falling onto his nose. Contact. His hand wrapped around what could only be-Blair cracked open one eye-it was, a cold brew.   
  
"Thanks Jim," he murmured as he slowly lowered the open bottle to his lips. Taking a long drink, he sighed again and slit his eyes open.   
  
"I am beat. What is it about bad buys and the waterfront? I mean, is there some code or something that explicitly says you must dump dead bodies there?"  
  
"Could be Chief," Jim sighed as he sunk onto the opposite couch.  
  
Jim chuckled as Blair continued talking, not hearing the cop's comment. "And that body! Could it have been any more grotesque than that? Surely someone had to have noticed something before now-the smell at least! There was no way that body could be that decomposed and not be noticed."  
  
"I'm with you there Chief. Someone had to have killed him somewhere else, and dumped the body in the water recently. But until we get the forensics and autopsy reports back, we won't know much."  
  
The two men sat in silence, each wrapped up in his own thoughts. Finally, Blair sighed loudly and began to rip the label from the bottle into small strips.  
  
"Okay, out with it Chief. What's on your mind?" Jim looked at Blair's surprised expression. "You're way too quiet. It's a dead giveaway that your brain is working much too hard. So, what is it?"  
  
Blair fidgeted for a moment before taking a deep breath and blurting out, "I was thinking about moving out. My friends rent this house near the university and a room just opened up. It's safe and it's cheap," he added as an afterthought.   
  
Jim looked at him with a blank expression on his face before taking a long swallow of his beer. He lowered the bottle to his knee and turned back to Blair. "Are you asking my permission? You're an adult. Do whatever you want." With those abrupt words, he picked up the remote and flicked on the TV.   
  
Blair struggled to mold his face into an expression as blank as Jim's. "Well, I just thought I owed it to you to run it by you before I decided anything."  
  
Jim turned to him and smiled dully. "Chief, if it makes you happy, then do it. You don't owe me anything. Besides, I wouldn't mind a little peace and quiet around here."  
  
"Well, I haven't decided yet. I'm just considering it," Blair added hastily, before Jim determined it to be a done deal.  
  
"Whatever," Jim muttered.  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Blair murmured into his beer.  
  
*****  
  
"It's coming through now," Simon Banks said into his phone, as his fax machine began to spit forth a multitude of papers.   
  
"Uhuh, looks like that's all of it. I'll look it over and brief the team you'll be working with." Simon scooped up the papers and tapped them into a definable shape.  
  
"Yes, that's right. Detective Ellison. He'll be lead." More shuffling of papers.  
  
"His partner. Well, he's hard to explain. You'll just have to meet him and see what I mean." The papers are forgotten as a large, dark hand finds its way into the top drawer, withdrawing one of his eternal cigars.  
  
"No, he's not a cop. He's a grad student. But he's exactly what you're looking for. We've used him undercover on several occasions. He's been with the department a little over a year now." A large breath as the cigar passed by his nose.  
  
"I'm sure he'll agree." Simon looked out into his bullpen, noticing the arrival of the two men he has been talking about. "As a matter of fact, they just walked in." He nodded as a voice droned on the other end of the line.  
  
"Alright then. Tomorrow at ten sharp." Simon slowly replaced the receiver as he focused on his best team and groaned.   
  
"No, not today. Why today? Can't you two ever get along for more than five minutes without someone's feelings getting hurt?" Simon grumbled as he pulled open his door and loomed in the doorway.   
  
"Ellison! Sandburg! Get in here! And stop scaring off the help-they're hard to replace," he added as a copy girl scrambled away from the glare Blair aimed her way.  
  
Settling behind his desk, he waited for the dynamic duo.   
  
"Hey Simon," Blair greeted as he sank into a chair, followed more slowly by his stoic partner.   
  
"Sir," Jim added grimly.   
  
Simon rolled his eyes at the salutation. "I've got a new case for you," he announced as he handed over the pile of papers, fresh from the fax.  
  
Jim looked up, and squinted through tired eyes at Simon. "What about the John Doe at the waterfront?"  
  
"I'll give it to Brown and Rafe. They love a good stiff," Simon chuckled.  
  
"I just spent all evening at the crime scene, and now you're giving it to someone else?" Jim rubbed at his eyes. "Simon, come on . . .."  
  
Simon held up a hand. "Uh uh, don't say it. I know you've already done a lot of work on the other case. But this new case just came through, interstate cooperation needed to its fullest extent. And, well," Simon looked down and mumbled, "I need Blair on this one."  
  
"What!" Jim exclaimed. "What could you possible need Blair to do, that is so important to reassign my cases?"  
  
Blair looked confused as he looked from one large man to the other. "Me? What do you need me to do Simon?"  
  
Simon sighed. "Just read the case file and I'll explain everything."  
  
Several minutes later, two sets of blue eyes were focused on Simon. Jim spoke first. "So, what we have here, is a magazine subscription service which hires minors to sell its magazines. They, along with an adult driver, travel around the state of California selling magazines. Now, some of the kids are accusing the drivers of sexually molesting them and taking them to adult clubs. Parents are complaining that their kids aren't in school and aren't receiving the homework assignments the company promised they would arrange to receive from the schools." Jim paused and rubbed his face. "Simon, this all happened in Sacramento, California. Why is it in our laps?"  
  
Simon waved his cigar at the impatient man. "That's the part I need to explain. The parent company is right here in good old Cascade. Add to that, a tip that the drivers are delivering drugs on their routes. The whole operation is a front for drug running."  
  
Blair shook his head and looked at Simon. "Isn't anything sacred anymore? Kids can't even get a job without being drawn into the underworld. How are they expected to grow up and become productive members of society?"  
  
"Get a job at McDonalds?" Jim answered, ignoring the glare from his partner.   
  
Turning back to Simon, Blair asked, "So what do you need me for Simon? I'm a little too old to pose as teenager, you know?"  
  
"That's funny Sandburg, real funny." Simon leaned forward. "But, you're not too old to drive a van. You're perfect for the job. You've got the whole grunge thing going on, the youthful restlessness, the aversion to scissors," Simon broke off, chuckling at Blair's mock glare.  
  
"Thanks man, I think. So what would I have to do?"  
  
"We're hoping for a relatively simple bust. In and out. We plan on wiring you and sending you in to ask for a job. We'll doctor up a criminal history, just to bait the hook. They hire you, ask if you want a little money on the side, you agree and they set you up as a drug runner. Just what you always wanted to be, huh Sandburg?" Simon grinned at the younger man before continuing. "They show you the merchandise, we bust in and arrest everyone. Including you," Simon pointedly stated. "We take them down, and hopefully they roll over on the producers."  
  
Blair shifted in his chair. "So, uh, what's my criminal history?"  
  
Simon leaned back and grinned. "Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Small time dealer, child pornography ring, petty thief. Nothing much."  
  
"A real winner," Jim commented snidely.  
  
Blair threw him a disgusted look. "So, Simon," he said, turning away from Jim, "Is that all? I've got some work to finish up at the university."  
  
Simon sighed as he watched the interplay between his two best men. Waving the younger man out he said, "Yeah, go, go. Just be here by ten tomorrow morning. We'll have some company from Sacramento then. So be on your best behavior."  
  
"You got it Simon," Blair called out over his shoulder as he exited the office.   
  
Simon watched through the window as Blair wove his way through the maze of desks scattered throughout the bullpen, finally disappearing through the door and into the hallway. Disgruntled, he turned his attention to the man still sitting quietly in front of him.   
  
"What's going on Jim? What did the kid do this time?"  
  
"He didn't do anything Sir."  
  
Simon groaned quietly to himself, 'Great, back to Sir.'  
  
Out loud he replied, "Then what's the problem? And don't tell me there isn't one. It's as obvious as the nose on my face."  
  
"He wants to move out."  
  
"So? Let him. I thought he was driving you nuts. You know, strange noises in the middle of the night, weird smells, hippie music, incense."  
  
Jim laughed for the first time since he entered the office. "Yeah, that's true. But," he sobered, "I guess I got used to having him around." He pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to the window.   
  
"I thought things were going okay. We've got the rules down, the schedule-I put up doors to give him privacy. I just don't understand why he wants to leave. I think he's trying to tell me something. Like maybe he wants out of this partnership. I'm sure he's got enough information to finish his dissertation. There's no reason for him to stick around."  
  
Simon stood and walked over to his friend. Laying his hand on the other man's shoulder, he turned him so they were facing. "Jim, I think you're forgetting something. Blair turned down the opportunity of a lifetime for you. I don't think he's about to up and jump ship now. Didn't he say it was about friendship? Isn't that what you told me? I think something else is going on here."  
  
"Or maybe he's afraid that he'll miss out on the next great opportunity, and the one after that. Maybe he regrets turning down Dr. Stoddard's offer."  
  
"Jim," Simon's voice was low and serious. "I think you owe Blair more credit than that, don't you? He's stuck with you through thick and thin. Maybe the problem here is something simpler. Have you thought that maybe he just needs space of his own? I mean, he was living on his own before you. Maybe he just wants to make his own rules."  
  
Jim sniggered. "Yeah, I know. You don't need to remind me. My rules are pretty extreme. But he hasn't complained about them. This was just so sudden."  
  
"Maybe you just need to talk to him and straighten this out. And if he does decide to move out, detach with love Jim."  
  
"Thank you Naomi," Jim laughed.  
  
"Now get out of here. I've got work to do." Simon sat down behind his desk and pretended to read a file. Sighing when the door shut quietly, he rolled his eyes. "I need a raise. I don't get paid enough for this. I'm a couple's counselor now . . .," he grumbled as he returned to his file.   
  
*****  
  
Blair eased open the green door and peered stealthily around the edge. The loft was dark and quiet. Blair relaxed and let out the breath he had been holding. With nimble fingers, he turned the lock and stripped off his coat. Maybe he'd get some work done. Crossing the room on tiptoes, he slid into a chair at the table and began to dig through his backpack.   
  
The creaking of bedsprings floated down the stairs and Blair cursed quietly under his breath and froze. 'Stay asleep, stay asleep,' he prayed. More creaking of springs followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Blair groaned and continued his search through his bag. He ignored his roommate's presence as Jim stumbled down the steps and into the bathroom.   
  
Finally finding the object of his near frantic search, Blair powered up his laptop computer and pulled a pile of loose notebook paper closer to him. Time to get to work. Sudden light flooded the hallway as Jim opened the bathroom door, then the loft was thrown back into darkness. A soft click from near the kitchen and the light over Blair's head sparked with soft, comforting light.   
  
"You're going to go blind working in the dark like that," Jim scolded.   
  
"I could see," Blair mumbled.  
  
"Uh huh. Tell that one to your Opthamologist when you go in for your next checkup." Jim shuffled forward until he was leaning against the counter. He let his gaze sweep over his young friend, hunched over his computer. Typical Sandburg, coming in late and then putting in time at the table to keep up with his demanding schedule. Moving as quietly as a mouse, while keeping the lights off, all to keep Jim from being disturbed. It was touching, but unnecessary. Jim knew Blair was home the minute he came through the front door. Everyone else in their building kept nice, normal hours.   
  
Drawing his gaze away, he looked out the far windows. Clearing his throat, he spoke, "So, Chief, is this what you really want, or is something else going on that I'm missing here?"  
  
Blair's hands, which had been typing furiously on his keyboard, stilled.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about Jim," he lied.  
  
"Moving Chief. I'm talking about you moving out. What's that all about? You never said a word about being unhappy here, but all of a sudden you can't wait to get out of here."  
  
Blair turned in his chair to face the Sentinel. "I never said I couldn't wait to get out of here, Jim. And I haven't made up my mind yet. Someone made me the offer-I'm thinking about it."  
  
Jim turned his face to stare at Blair. "That's what I don't get. Why are you even thinking about it?"  
  
Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Blair drew in a deep breath. "I just thought you might want your space back. We aren't exactly compatible as roommates, and I know I'm not conducive to the kind of peace and quiet your senses demand. I just think this might work out best for both of us."  
  
Blair tried to read the expression on his friend's face, but failed. "Come on man, I'm not saying I won't still be working with you, or that I can't help you with your senses. That is, if I decide to accept the offer. Which I haven't. Decided yet, that is," Blair stumbled.   
  
Summoning as much courage as attainable at one thirty in the morning, Blair asked, "Do you want me to stay?"  
  
Jim shrugged and started for the stairs. "I want you to do whatever you want, Chief. Don't put it on me to make the decision for you."  
  
Blair sighed and dropped his head on his arms as the older man withdrew to the safety of his loft bedroom.   
  
*****  
  
"Ellison, my office!" Simon's voice rang out over the bullpen as Jim hung his coat on the coat rack.   
  
As Jim neared the door, Simon glanced around. "Where's Sandburg?"  
  
Tossing his head behind him, Jim answered, "He had to make a pit stop, he'll be here soon."  
  
Standing aside to let Jim pass through the door, Simon gestured at the two men already seated in his office.   
  
"Jim Ellison, this is Assistant District Attorney Enrique Vallesquez, of Sacramento County." A short, Latino man sporting a neatly trimmed goatee, short hair, and small wire rimmed glasses stood and shook Jim's hand.   
  
"And this is Benjamin Bradshaw, a child advocate employed by the Sacramento Public Defender's office," Simon added, indicating the large, burly man sitting to Vallesquez' right. The large man stood and took Jim's hand. His hand nearly engulfed Jim's own as he towered over the Sentinel. Thick gray hair stood out in tufts from the man's head and he reached his large hand up, absentmindedly running his fingers through it in a taming gesture.   
  
"Good to meet you Detective," a deep, kind voice boomed. Bradshaw returned to his seat, crossing one blue-jean clad leg over the other. Running one hand over his gray and white flannel shirt to smooth out the wrinkles, he turned his attention to Simon.  
  
Jim settled into a chair across from the Sacramento natives and looked quizzically at Simon.  
  
Simon leaned on his desk and folded his arms. "I'm sure you're wondering, Detective, why an ADA and child advocate are on the case. This is an extremely sensitive situation in that there are twenty plus teenagers in Sacramento County alone who are involved. Some as victims, and possibly some that may be implicated in the drug operation. ADA Vallesquez and Mr. Bradshaw are here to ensure that this is treated with kid gloves-that no one slips through the cracks."  
  
Jim nodded. "I understand Sir." Suddenly cocking his head to one side, Jim rose from his chair and pulled open the door.  
  
"Chief!" he called over the mayhem, to his partner.   
  
Blair's eyes met Jim's as he nodded and unwound his scarf from his neck. Straightening his clothes, he sucked in a large, soothing breath and headed for Simon's office.  
  
"Simon," he greeted the large captain as he entered. Turning his attention to the two strangers, he approached and offered his hand.   
  
"Blair Sandburg," he said as he shook the small, Latino man's hand.  
  
"Enrique Vallesquez, Assistant District Attorney, Sacramento County," the man returned, smiling his approval at Simon's choice for the new driver.  
  
Blair turned to the large man, now sitting unmoving. "Hello," he offered with a smile of his own as he held out his hand.  
  
The large man stared at him for a moment, tracing Blair's face with his eyes. His lips pulled into a tight line as his breathing and heart beat accelerated.   
  
Blair didn't seem to notice that the man never took his hand. Scrunching his eyes slightly, Blair looked at the man with a scrutinizing gaze of his own, before letting his fingers curl under slightly. Pointing his remaining finger at the man, he asked,   
  
"Have we met before?"  
  
The large man gasped and pushed his chair away from the table. Squeezing past Blair, he looked at Simon and said, "Excuse me Captain, I have to get some air. I'll be right back."   
  
As the large man disappeared from the room, Simon turned to Blair with a sigh. "All right Sandburg, what did you do this time?"  
  
Blair followed the retreating man with wide eyes, before pulling his arm back towards his body. Then, raising his hands in a mock surrender, he stuttered, "I didn't do anything, Simon. I thought he looked familiar, but that's it. I swear!"  
  
"All right, calm down. I'm sure he just needed some air, like he said," Simon soothed his frenzied observer.   
  
Blair turned to the table and caught Jim's concerned expression. Smiling at the knowledge that the man still cared what happened to him, Blair shrugged weakly and took his seat next to Jim.  
  
The next half-hour was passed with Vallesquez filling in more background information on the case. As he was wrapping up, Bradshaw slipped back into the room.   
  
"My apologies gentleman, Mr. Sandburg. I was feeling a bit ill, but I'm better now," he explained.   
  
Simon cleared his throat. "That's perfectly understandable Mr. Bradshaw . . ."  
  
"Ben," Bradshaw interrupted.   
  
"Alright, Ben then. We were just finishing up a review of the case. Unless anyone has anything to add, I think we can get this show on the road."  
  
Jim could feel Blair's body tense next to him, and wondered when they had moved so near one another. Absently, he brought one hand up to pat Blair's arm in a calming gesture. Sneaking a look at his partner, he was surprised to note the pale face and fine sheen of sweat on the man's brow.   
  
Blair tried to calm his breathing, and silently chanted a calming mantra to himself. 'Ben', 'Ben Bradshaw'. He wondered where he'd heard that name before, but when Bradshaw corrected the captain-he knew. Benny. California. He hadn't thought of that name, or the man it belonged to in years. Hadn't wanted to remember-not the man, nor the time they'd spent together. He'd tried so hard to forget the little island paradise in the middle of raging seas.   
  
Ben obviously remembered him. But why the surprise? Why the shock? Why would the man react so harshly to a chance encounter with an old foster child? Surely he'd have forgotten Blair by now. He'd had over ten years worth of needy children to fill up his memories.   
  
Blair glanced at Ben and offered a small smile, just to let the man know he was remembered. The radiating smile he got in return was enough to steal his breath away. That smile, the same smile that would calm his fears and reassure him that all was well so many years ago. It held the same magic now as it had fourteen years prior.   
  
As the men rose from their seats and began to pour from the captain's office, Ben drew Blair aside.   
  
"Blair Sandburg. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you. I'd really like it if we could get together and talk." Beneath the beaming smile, lurked a sadness that tore at Blair's heart.   
  
'No!' Blair bit back the sudden fear filled thought. 'I don't want to relive it-any of it. Talking about it will only bring back the pain, the hurt, the betrayal.'  
  
Out loud he answered, "I don't know Benny," the old endearment slipped out and Blair grimaced. "I've got a lot of work to finish up for the university later. I don't know if I'll have time."  
  
The larger man's eyes softened, remembering the Blair of long ago. The same nervous excuses as he had tried to keep Ben and Liz at arm's length. Too afraid to let them care for him. Too afraid to admit he needed what they had to offer.  
  
"Blair, please. I need to know what happened. After you-left, no one would tell us anything. Liz and I, we were afraid for you. For what might have happened to you. Please, just humor an old man. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. Just tell me how you are now-what you're doing. Give me something to bring back to Liz."  
  
Blair nodded slowly as he met the other man's eyes. "Sure, I can do that."  
  
Ben grinned and slapped Blair on his back. "Great. How about dinner after we get this all wrapped up? My treat."  
  
Murmuring his agreement, Blair excused himself and slipped over to Jim's desk and pulled on his coat.   
  
"What's up Chief?" Jim asked as he slipped his arms into his own outerwear.   
  
Blair shot his friend a small grin, "Guess we do know each other. We're going to catch some dinner later and catch up."  
  
"You sure everything's okay? You need me to come along?" Jim offered.  
  
"Nah. He's a pussycat. I'll be fine. I'll see you at home later," Blair answered as he followed the Sentinel out the door.   
  
*****  
  
"So," the man paused, his clean cut suit draping neatly over a lean body. Sharp gray eyes pierced into the clear blue orbs of his new associate. The eyes continued down, taking in the torn jeans and ragged sweater, contrasted by the pristine white of new Nike tennis shoes. An obvious status symbol for one as seedy as the young man seated before him.   
  
A pang of guilt clutched at his gut as the young man tossed his long curls back over his shoulders. Light glinted off the small silver hoops laced through the man's earlobes. The predator grinned and licked his lips, leaving behind a wet shine-probably thinking about the kids he would be traveling with for the next two weeks.   
  
Shaking himself from his guilt laden thoughts, the businessman chided silently, 'Fool! You know you can't risk the operation by taking on goody two-shoes. Can't concern yourself with the thought of innocence lost-hell, where do I think the drugs are going? Onto the streets, and probably into the hands of those same kids. Now get on with it!'  
  
"So," the young man parroted, bouncing a bit in his seat. "When do I start?"  
  
"Today it you'd like," the suit answered. "But first, Sanders, I've got another proposition for you." He walked around the seated man, finally stopping behind him and laying his hand on the thin shoulder.  
  
"What would you say to making a little bit extra on the side?"  
  
"I'd say cool man!" the slimy youth laughed. The laugh of a druggie. Of a man too long on the streets-removed from society.   
  
"Uh, What do I have to do?" he added as an afterthought.  
  
"Oh, just a few deliveries on the side." The suit watched as the young man's head bobbed up and down, and crushed the urge to grab him and make him hold still.  
  
"Deliveries, I can do that," accompanied by that laugh again.   
  
"Understand Sanders, these are special deliveries. You can't fuck this up. This is way too important to be taken lightly."  
  
The kid threw his hands up in the air. "I get it man! No need to bite my head off. So what is it? Black market? Guns? No, wait, if this is some sort of sex ring-hehe, I'm all in," he leered.  
  
The suit felt his gut roll and reached out, grabbing the kid by the throat. "Listen up you shit-head. You'll receive a client list every two weeks. You will follow the route outlined on the list. You will have packages in a locked trunk, which you will deliver per the instructions on the client list. You are not to open any of the packages. They will all be sealed and I will know if they've been tampered with. The kids aint involved," the suit punctuated with a finger in the kid's face. "You will leave them out of it. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
The kid nodded his head mutely.  
  
Releasing the kid's throat, the suit asked, "Still interested?"  
  
"Yeah man," the kid gasped, rubbing his red neck. Standing slowly, he followed the suit through a rear door and into a large garage. Several blue vans sat scattered throughout the garage.   
  
"Your van's right this way. Number 12. It will always be number 12. Got it?" he growled.  
  
The kid nodded, "Yeah, number 12. Got it."  
  
"Here's your client list. Here are the keys to the van as well as the keys to the trunk. You are only to open the trunk upon delivery. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, open the trunk only when I make the delivery," the kid parroted.   
  
"Good," the suit punctuated with a quick slap to the kid's cheek.   
  
The heavy calm was suddenly broken the wail of sirens. The suit started to run back towards the door they had come through, the kid on his heels. As they neared it, the door flew open and several black clad men stormed through aiming guns at the two men.   
  
"Freeze, police!" The two men froze, eyes wide.  
  
"Shit, shit, I can't go back to jail," the kid wailed pitifully behind the suit.  
  
Rough hands grabbed them and lowered them to the floor and onto their stomachs, before their hands were cuffed together.  
  
"I didn't do nothing man," the kid cried as he was hauled to his feet.  
  
"Shut up kid," a tall, muscular cop growled as he led the kid away.  
  
The suit's eyes widened as the doors to number 12 were thrown open and a trunk lowered to the floor. He shook his head slightly, knowing his fate was sealed once they opened the trunk. 'Damn it all. Why didn't I listen to Andrea and get out while the going was good?' he thought to himself. 'Well, Jackie, you knew what you were doing when you got into this mess. Must be cosmic justice or somethin', for all the crap those kids go through,' he sighed to himself as he was pushed into a police cruiser.   
  
He glanced into the next car and saw the kid bopping his head around. He sniggered and thought, 'At least he won't get a chance to get near any of 'em.'  
  
*****  
  
"That was some performance today Blair," Ben complimented the grad student as they took their seats in the crowded restaurant.   
  
"Thanks, I did a little acting as an undergrad," Blair replied.  
  
"Your neck okay?" Ben asked as he reached forward and lifted Blair's chin.  
  
"Yeah, it's fine. A little sore, but no damage."  
  
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Ben apologized sincerely.  
  
"That? That wasn't anything compared to some of the things I've been through working with Jim," Blair admitted.   
  
"About that, what's your involvement with the police department?" the older man asked with a concerned expression on his face.  
  
Blair recognized the look and groaned inwardly. "I'm working on my dissertation for my doctorate. I'm studying closed societies in modern day society. You know, the thin blue line?" he threw out, despite the mocking glare he could imagine Jim throwing him for using the lame line.   
  
"I'm familiar with the concept," Ben replied as he studied his menu.  
  
Laughing, Blair said, "That's funny-that's exactly what Simon said."  
  
"That sounds more like you'd be studying the department as a whole-how did you become Detective Ellison's partner, as Captain Banks referred to you?"  
  
"Oh, well, I thought it would be best to watch the varying interactions of the department with one person, namely Jim. At the time, Jim was working alone, so Captain Banks assigned him to work with me."  
  
"I see. Well, it must be interesting. Does this mean that you're interested in police work?" Ben probed.  
  
Blair shrugged. "I'm an anthropologist first and foremost. I can't say that I haven't enjoyed working with Jim, because I have. But there are certain aspects of the business that just don't quite jive with my personal code of ethics."  
  
"Such as?" Ben asked.  
  
"Well, carrying a gun for one. That's just not me. Not that I won't use one if necessary, but I'd prefer not to. And then there's the hair issue," Blair mentioned as he laughed. He held up a long lock, "Do you know how long it took me to grow it this long?"  
  
Ben chuckled and shook his head. "I see you've got your priorities straight Blair."  
  
Ben back-peddled as he caught sight of Blair's crestfallen face. "Hey, I didn't mean that to be insulting. I think it's important knowing who you are. What's important to you. It's good to see that you've established such a strong sense of identity." He smiled gently at Blair. "I can only hope that I played some part in encouraging that."  
  
Blair blushed and smiled. "Thanks, you did."  
  
The men were interrupted by the sudden arrival of their waitress. After placing their orders, Ben turned to Blair.  
  
"So what happened Blair? Why did you leave? Where did you go?" Ben asked.  
  
Blair took a roll from the bread basket, and began to pick at it. "I'm sorry Ben. I never thought that you would be worried. I just figured, I was gone, some other kid would take my place. After a while, I just shut that part of my life out as best as I could. That included everyone who was a part of it. Including you and Lizzie." Blair shifted as his eyes lit up in memory. "How is Lizzie anyway?"  
  
"Lizzie's great Blair. She's still teaching, although this is her last year. She's going to retire."  
  
"That's too bad," Blair said.   
  
"Well, not so bad. Liz isn't one to keep down. She's going to volunteer at the school part time."  
  
"Are you still taking in foster kids?" Blair asked.  
  
"Yes, we never stopped. It's too important to us. There are just so many kids who need to know they're loved."  
  
"I was loved," Blair interjected suddenly. "I don't want you to think that I wasn't."  
  
Ben reached out and patted Blair's hand. "I know Blair, you always made sure we knew that."  
  
"How is your mother," Ben asked.  
  
Blair smiled. "Naomi's doing great. She's in Ethiopia with a friend right now." Blair ignored the odd expression that appeared on Ben's face when Blair called his mother by her given name.   
  
"Well, that's good. But Blair, you never answered my question. What happened?"  
  
Blair fingered a ball of bread he had been rolling in his fingers and popped it into his mouth. After chewing for a few seconds, he answered, "You know what happened. Naomi left. No one knew where she was and you were planning on taking away her rights as a parent. I knew she wasn't gone-wasn't abandoning me. I just had to find her, so I left."  
  
Ben sat back as the waitress set a hot plate in front of him. He watched as Blair picked up his fork and picked at his food.   
  
"So you found her." It was a statement, more than a question.  
  
Blair nodded. "Yes, after awhile. I hitched for a while, stopping everywhere I thought Naomi might be. I stayed with some of Naomi's friends for a couple days. I was there when she called. She was frantic. She knew I was gone and was trying to find me."  
  
"She called, right after you left. If you'd just waited a bit longer . . ." Ben trailed off.  
  
"If I'd waited a bit longer, she might have left me there," Blair stated quietly. "She started moving again. She wasn't going to stop. There was no way the judge would let me go with her. I had to be with her."  
  
"I understand that Blair."  
  
Blair continued, "Well, she told her friends where she was and they put me on a Greyhound bus. She was here, in Washington. She didn't want to keep running from the courts, so once I got here, she set up house, got a job and stuck around. At least until I started at Rainier. She started traveling again then. She'd contacted social services here, and they closed the file."  
  
"So you were here together for five years? Until you were eighteen?" Ben asked.  
  
Blair smiled wryly. "No, I started Rainier when I was sixteen. I wish I could say that everything was fairy tale perfect once Naomi and I were together, but it wouldn't be true. I had the option of finishing high school with my class or moving on to the university. I chose the university."  
  
"What happened?" Ben pushed.  
  
"More of the same I guess. I grew up a lot though in that time, although my professors at the university probably wouldn't agree. I was pretty full of myself," Blair grinned at the memory.   
  
"But I made the right choice. I had a lot of guidance at Rainier, not to mention meeting my mentor, Dr. Eli Stoddard. He pushed me towards Anthropology. I owe him for that."  
  
"You've grown up a lot since I knew you," Ben noted with pride.   
  
Blair shrugged. "You could say that. I mean, I'm almost done with my doctorate, and I'm teaching at a prestigious university. I've traveled all over the world and interacted with indigenous tribes of remote regions most people haven't even heard of. But I didn't really start to feel like an adult until I met Jim."  
  
"Oh?" the older man asked, interested.   
  
"Yeah. To be honest, I'm a pretty selfish person. I put myself first. At least, I used to."  
  
"Until you met Jim," Ben added.  
  
Grinning, Blair agreed. "I guess I never really knew the meaning of friendship until this near stranger takes me in off the streets-long story," Blair said in response to the shocked look Ben was throwing him. "Long story short, I was living alone in a warehouse, when it blew up. The space next to mine was a drug lab you see-really long story, you don't want to go there," he warned.   
  
"I'd already started working with Jim by this time and I convinced him to let me move in. For only a week, at least that was the agreement. But he kept vetoing everything I found in my price range. Bad neighborhood, too run down, that sort of thing. He finally just told me to stay."  
  
"So you're still roommates?" Ben asked.  
  
Blair sighed, the memories of the last few days creeping into his thoughts. "Yeah, but maybe not for long."  
  
"Something happen?" Ben asked. "I couldn't help but notice a certain amount of tension between the two of you this morning."  
  
"Well, I've had an offer to move in with some friends from the university. Ever since I mentioned it to Jim, he's been giving me the cold shoulder."  
  
"Hmm, sounds like he doesn't want you to move out," Ben offered.  
  
"I asked him if he wanted me to stay, and he said it was my choice," Blair exclaimed, his irritation over the situation brewing.  
  
"Well, it is, isn't it? What do you want to do Blair?" Ben asked.  
  
"See, that's just it! I don't know. On the one hand, I like living with Jim. I like having someone notice if I'm late. Someone who will come and get me if my car breaks down. Someone who appreciates my cooking," Blair added, grinning.  
  
"But?" Ben prodded.  
  
"But, Jim's got a lot of rules. He color codes our food. He's a neat freak. My friend Glenn makes it sound like I'm letting Jim control me or something."  
  
"Is he?"  
  
"No. It's just, I spend a lot of my time with Jim. When I'm not working with him, I spent a lot of free time with him and the guys from the station. That doesn't leave much time for my college friends."  
  
"Hmm, sounds like you are growing up. There's nothing wrong with moving from one peer group to another. You said yourself, you're almost done with your degree. You spend most of your time with this new group of people. Do you consider them friends?"  
  
Blair nodded.  
  
"Well, your new group of friends are already working full time jobs. You're trying to feel like an adult, and naturally you're drifting towards the peer group that best represents adulthood. Or at least your idea of what adulthood is supposed to be like," Ben laughed.   
  
"Wow! That's like so great! Why couldn't I see that?" Blair exclaimed. "Now I have a lot more thinking to do so I can make this decision once and for all, and get past it."  
  
"There you go," Ben agreed.  
  
"Thanks Ben," Blair said quietly. "I'm really sorry I left like that. I guess I didn't realize that you wouldn't be told I was back with Naomi."  
  
"I'm just glad to see that you're doing so well Blair. That's all I ever wanted."  
  
The two men stood and Ben wrapped his long arms around Blair. "Take care of yourself, kiddo," he murmured into Blair's hair.   
  
*****  
  
"Hey Jim," Blair called out as he pushed open the loft door.  
  
"Hey Chief, how was dinner?" Jim asked as he rose from the couch. He crossed the room and pulled open the fridge.  
  
"Beer?" he offered.  
  
"Yeah man, that'd be great," Blair answered, taking the cold bottle from his roommate's hand and shuffling over to the couch.  
  
Blair opened the bottle and took a large swallow. "Ah, that's good," he murmured as he settled back into the soft cushions.   
  
"Dinner?" Jim prompted again as he sat on the other couch.  
  
"Dinner was good. We had a lot to talk about," Blair replied sleepily.  
  
"So how do you know him?" Jim asked.  
  
Blair sighed deeply before answering. "He was my foster father for nine months." Blair turned his head to look at Jim and tried to gage his expression. What he saw reflected back was concern and curiosity.   
  
"You don't have to explain anything to me Chief if you don't want to," Jim said softly.  
  
Blair shrugged. "I want to. It's not a secret or anything."  
  
"How come you never talked about this guy before?" Jim asked.  
  
"I guess I just tried to forget about him," Blair answered truthfully. "It wasn't a great time in my life."  
  
"How'd you end up in a foster home?"  
  
Blair turned to look at Jim, with a serious expression on his face. "I love Naomi. She did the best she knew how. I want you to remember that," Blair demanded.  
  
Jim held his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Whoa, I know that!"  
  
"I know you do man, I know you do. I just want to make it clear that I love her, and I appreciate everything she has ever done for me. Just, she wasn't always the most responsible parent."  
  
"Okay," Jim encouraged.  
  
"Naomi loved being a mother. She took me everywhere. Tried to show me everything. She gave me my love for life and for different peoples. I just don't think she was cut out to be a mother. At least, not back then." Blair stopped and looked over at Jim.  
  
"I'm not judging Chief," Jim assured his young friend.  
  
"I think she needed to take breaks-be away from me for awhile. She'd leave me with friends a lot so she could go out. Have some fun. Too much fun," he added sliding his eyes towards Jim once again.  
  
"When I was twelve, she left me with this couple she had just met, and went to some party. Things were okay at first, but then they started drinking. Then they started to fight. A real knock down fight. I freaked out and starting yelling at them to stop. I think they forgot I was there. The guy got pissed that I got involved and started yelling at me. But, being Naomi's son, I yelled back. I wasn't real used to people yelling at me, you know?" he looked to Jim for affirmation.  
  
"Go on," Jim coaxed.  
  
"That pissed the guy off even more, and he started to come at me. I tried to run out, but he caught me and started slamming me. Beat the crap out of me." Blair paused and looked down at his beer.  
  
"I'm sorry Chief," Jim said softly. "You don't have to tell me this . . ."  
  
"I want to-I do. Just give me a second," Blair said through deep breaths. After a minute, he continued.  
  
"He fractured my jaw and gave me two black eyes. My face had more colors than a Christmas tree. Broke my arm when he grabbed me. Naomi came stumbling in when most of it was over. She was drunk. She yelled at the guy for awhile before grabbing me and driving to the hospital. You'd have to imagine they weren't too impressed with her when she came stumbling in with me at the emergency room. They called social services and the cops. They arrested Naomi. They thought she'd done it. Put me in an emergency foster home. When we went to court, they believed us that Naomi didn't do it. But they ruled her unfit because she had left me with strangers while she went out and got drunk," Blair paused before adding, "and high."  
  
"So then," Jim started.  
  
"So then, they carted me off to Ben's. Only I knew him as Benny. He and his wife Lizzie were great. They really were. It just wasn't where I wanted to be. You know? I wanted to be with Naomi. She did everything the court ordered her to do. But she got antsy. She quit her job thinking we'd be going back to court and she'd get me back. My social worker was pregnant and went on maternity leave. No one took over the case for two more months. So the hearing was postponed. When we went back to court, the judge ordered that I had to stay with Ben and his wife for another six months and that Naomi had to get a stable job and a permanent address. I knew right then it wasn't going to happen. Naomi-stable?" Blair shook his head at the memory.   
  
"So what happened?" Jim asked.  
  
"Naomi left the state and came to Washington to find a job here. No one knew where she was at first and I panicked. I ran away. I bummed around for a month. Hitch-hiking and hitting all Naomi's favorite spots. We finally found each other and I came to Washington to be with her. She settled down-well, as settled as Naomi Sandburg gets, and social services here closed the file."  
  
Jim looked perplexed. "So why was Ben so surprised to see you?"  
  
"Oh man, that's the horrible part. No one ever contacted Ben and Liz to let them know I was okay. I didn't want to think about any of it, and Naomi really didn't like them for taking her boy away."  
  
"Geez Chief," Jim uttered as he rubbed at his forehead.  
  
"Give me a break, okay Jim? I was thirteen by then. I just wanted to forget about all of it. And things weren't great for me after that. I was dealing with a lot."  
  
"I know Chief. I didn't mean anything."  
  
"It wasn't all bad, you know?"  
  
Jim nodded quietly and fidgeted in his seat. Drawing in a large lungful of air, he said, "If you want to stay, I wouldn't mind."  
  
Blair nodded his understanding. "It's not that I wanted to leave. Okay, maybe I do sometimes miss life without all the house rules. But mostly, I like living here. But I don't like being treated like I'm five years old. That stunt you pulled when my friends were here-that was really embarrassing man." Blair shook his head and peered over at Jim through the tangle of hair that hung in front of his face.  
  
"I know. I was being an ass. You live here too and can have people over and make a mess-as long as you clean it up," Jim added hastily.   
  
"I'll clean up my messes as long as you give me a chance to finish making them. I don't need you to sweep through and start picking up after me."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry."  
  
"I want to stay Jim."  
  
"Great. It's your turn to cook tomorrow . . ."  
  
"What? No way man! It was my turn to cook today. It's not my fault I had to go out with Ben. That was important," Blair whined.  
  
"How about pizza Chief?"  
  
"I'm down with that."  
  
"Yeah, me too Chief. Me too." 


End file.
